The sky is vast and violent and

my bones are a chicken's death

I see the possums climbing trees

before and after flying fences

and bouncing trash cans

their eyes are beady and unperturbed

and mine should be too.

Talent is a way to spend time

not some transcendent insight

no epiphany will save you

you have to eat shit and die

like everyone else.

Shapes come out of the dark with radiant form

veins drawn to the height of electric wires

I see hellfire crawling over me like meat

I see the roads dragged by painted corpses

I see rancid thugs digging

with diamond studded shovels

and the tents of steel with proud windows

framing holographic kings

the howling deception of history.

I am a bent hysteric

tapping a twig in my blood

to mark a blank sail

with the harm that stars and soil

have done to me

these trails of healing loneliness

that lead to everything true.

Richness of spirit is smashed

on these waves of shit

but the orb of eyes at rest

rises to drift godlike over all

and sends down myriad mute

dancing messengers

dogs of warless lightning

leashes lashed to hands of fog

bones flying on velvet webs

alone in a creaking town

I see the rubber dome slide over

crackling machinery of stars

behind the milky screen

bricks rotating in spiral torsos

headless beauties poised in antiquity

flags of silk in wind that toils

projected from the dark interior

of a horned atomic angel

dice bouncing in the alleys

where the music surged in painted ways

those fire escape days.

Leviathan drowned in a bathtub

purple vines encasing the old fortress

where stones become reptilian crawlers

gardens gash order with order

liquid walls are open to the sky

in courtyards where the sight of extra stars

blooms backbrain on an air plateau

I'm a torn goner

under the many skins I have worn out

this hand grenade heart is ready

beauties glide bars of frozen light

to my hands that are shackled

to their willing strings

I sing what the sirens give me

bronze arrows ejaculate wombs

palm trees with metal tentacles

the skull is a symbol of consciousness

no longer taking part